


High School Faculty in Drag

by GoodQueenVold



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 2004, Abusive Denethor, Abusive Thranduil, F/M, Gen, Grey Havens, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry for Being 14, It's awful, M/M, Mpreg, Nostalgia, Other, Parody, Purposely Horrible Poetry, Randomness, Really Dated Parodies, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 10,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodQueenVold/pseuds/GoodQueenVold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you mix clichéd stories with random humour and twenty-three men named LaQuanda? The result is this weird fic. This is not the average story. Warning: extremely twisted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cliché #1: Éowyn Writes a Letter to Aragorn

**Author's Note:**

> (Update: 29 August 2004) I rewrote some chapters to make them more appropriate, fixed grammar mistakes, and all of that nice stuff. It’s still the same story... only better.
> 
> (Update: 29 August 2016) Jesus, I’m writing an update TWELVE YEARS TO THE DAY LATER. As per the request of an old fan who fondly remembered this story, long since deleted from fanfiction.net, I am uploading it again here, again with grammatical corrections because little me did not know how to use ellipses. One chapter per day should suffice. 
> 
> Do keep in mind that this was written in 2004, when I was fourteen and ~random~ *holds up spork*. Is it a masterpiece? No. Are the parodies dated? Yes. Is it funny? Possibly, in an “absurd kid on sugar high” way, or if you’re high as an adult. I can vouch for this fic being super nostalgic, though, in terms of it being written in the best year of my life, at a time when the fandom was booming and everyone else and I were silly teenagers. That said, enjoy!

Dear Aragorn,  
  
Yo, what up, mah home slice? I’m writing to you because I’m quite bored. Ioreth won’t let me play with her special greebles and I just want to tell you how I feel. Our past was rocky like a six-legged giraffe in a red convertible. I longed to love you, to stick Cheerios up your nose and rename you Alien Foetus, but you didn’t return my love or the granny cakes I lent you. Give the cakes of all that may be granny back, you mediocre snarz with a head cold! I wanted to know everything about you, but now all I want to know is the density of a migrant worker holding a broken pencil sharpener from Staples and the eccentricity factor of Kansas. It’s okay and perfectly acceptable that you didn’t love me like that. Windfola was a better lover than you ever could be, but some scary man with a painted face and a red afro took him away and made him into a goopy substance called glue. Since then, I have found love in Faramir and the Mets mascot, so all is fine and dandy. Now that you’re a chubby, blown-up king and I’m in love, I feel like a bar of soap in a Lamaze class for polar bears who are addicted to nicotine and the anime channel. You may think that I’ve lost my marbles. I lost them during the battle of Pelennor Fields, and I don’t care. The only thing I care about is plotting to drown my brother in a pool of vinegar, or perhaps nail polish. Well, I have to stop writing this horrid letter now because Faramir is being attacked by numerous Sesame Street characters. Adios, Queen Elessar.  
  
Peace out and save the trees,  
Éowyn, your favourite igfrad


	2. Cliche #2: Legolas' Female Woes; Abusive Thranduil

Dear Thranduil Marie (aka Ada... or should I say ARSE WIPE?),

Why did you abuse me when I was a wee little elfling? Seriously, I am sitting here in the Planned Parenthood clinic (I'm getting a pregnancy test done) and I'm thinking about why you abused me. Was it because I didn't like waffles? Was it because the Minas Tirith feather monster stuck needles in your nose, put you in a box and sent you to Cuba with only fifteen pesos and a porno magazine featuring Vasco da Gama and a zucchini? I need to know these things before I explode, or worse, join varsity track. You traumatised my sorry arse and I hate you for it. Pillows can really hurt young children, you know. I bet you didn't even take a parenting class, you musical paediatrician on numerous illegal drugs! You never cared for me, Ada, and mum left us a long time ago. In fact, I didn't even know that my mum was Elrond until yesterday! I hate you, Ada. I want to tie you to a wooden post, put you on train tracks, and when the train runs you over, I'll catch your splattered insides in a blue bucket named Colleen. Please write back and tell me why. Tell me why you hate me, why the sky is yellow and why I haven't got my period in three months.

Sincerely,

Legolas Carlie Greenleaf, your unwanted, abused, maltreated, injured, offended, upset, insulted, and quite pregnant son.

\------THRANDUIL'S REPLY------

Dear Legolas,

I HATE YOU.

Love,

Your Father

PS: XoXoXo

PPS: Daddy loves you!

PPPS: :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

PPPPS: Muah! Leggie want a kissy?

PPPPPS: Don't forget to call Uncle Susan.


	3. Cliche #3: Sad Grey Havens Fic

“Mr Frodo, why can’t I come?” asked Sam sadly.

Frodo just shook his head and Sam began to cry. “You didn’t answer me, Mr Frodo! I can’t go because I’m not gay, right? Gandalf’s gay, Galadriel’s gay, you’re gay, you’re all gay! Is that it? Please, Mr Frodo, I’ll turn gay!”

“It’s not that, Sam, you worthless little sushi monster,” replied Frodo, handing Sam a picture of an old-fashioned green telephone with legs. “I don’t want you to come.”

“Please, Mr Frodo, tell me why! You are my friend, the clouds in my sky. You are my saviour, you are my hero. You look like that Roman emperor named Nero...”

“ENOUGH!” bellowed Gandalf. “Frodo, get on the ship, you diabolical goddess named Marmalade.”

Merry and Pippin began to sob. They were as upset as a polka-dotted construction worker with genital herpes on a roller coaster with Orlando Bloom’s second cousin twice removed. Sam stood there in shock as Frodo walked towards the Black Pearl, which Elrond had stolen from Jack Sparrow, everyone’s favourite maxithon.

“Where is the love?” asked Pippin, massaging a caterpillar named George. “Where hath thou loveth goneth? Frodo hath left us, home slices, and we musteth drowneth in a pooleth of angsteth.”

Frodo turned around and walked back to his friends. This fic couldn’t be a bittersweet Grey Havens fic if it didn’t have a motivational speech from him to Samwise, so he hugged him and began to speak.

“Sam, you nauseating erosion hound, it is my time to go. There is a time for everything, such as taking dumps in your pants, which I predict you will do in five hours. As I said a few seconds ago, it’s my time to go, and if you’re not okay with that, murder your wife and watch American Idol. Your time will come, so don’t get mad...get glad! You cannot always be torn in two, unless someone ties your legs to two different horses running in different directions. You will have so much to enjoy, such as that new XXX squirrel channel, Russian potato farmers, and the pleasure of eating nose rings for supper.”

“But I thought you were going to enjoy those things!” protested Sam, wiping tears from his eyes. “You promised.”

“I thought so too, Louise. I have been deeply hurt by my arduous journey to Pizza Hut a few years ago. The Shire has been saved, you nincompoop. You see, when things are in danger, someone has to give up their pants. Sam, you are my heir. I leave you everything I owned and would have owned, which includes an endless supply of maxi pads, some headless gerbils, a gothic lemon and your Aunt Vicki. You have your wife, your many children and other shit I don’t care about. Beware the ides of March, Samwise Angelica Gamgee.”

Sam hugged Frodo, who did smacked him across his fat face.

“BEEP you, Sam,” spat Frodo. “Wait, Rosie will do that and she’ll reproduce like a rabbit on hormones.”

“Wow,” Merry said. “I’ve never heard you use such colourful language. I feel like a cabbage on a blind date with a bikini on a starry Saturday night!”

Gandalf, who had ignored the whole conversation and not so motivational speech, pushed the ringbearers (except Frodikins) on the ship. He was incredibly sexy in his pleather miniskirt and orange high heels.

“Here on the shores of Middle-earth,” he began. “Ends the Fellowship of the Ring. Yadda yadda yadda... Ringwraith pie. The time has come, Frodo Jane Baggins.”

Frodo kissed all of his friends like a nautical capitalist particle. He bounced happily onto the ship, sailed away, and was no more, leaving his friends in a pile of angst and cow dung.

They all lived happily ever after... not.


	4. Cliche #4: Character Survey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus tapdancin' Christ, this is outdated...

NAME: Aragorn Crystal, also known as King Elessar, Elfstone, and a bunch of other names.

NICKNAME(S): Snuggle Lizard, Amanda, and Yrch.

AGE: As old as a geologist with a rubber mallet.

GENDER: A happy mix of both male and female. I have ovaries.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: I’m not quite sure. I’m attracted to rabbits. That’s why I married Arwen.

BIRTHDAY: 1 March.

LOCATION: Up your arse.

LIVING ARRANGEMENT: I’m currently living in a home for abused shrubberies with Ioreth and my trusty gooseplop.

FAMILY: Arwen, Eldarion, my nameless daughters.

HEIGHT: BOOHAHA! GERARD!

WEIGHT: I’m 500,009,864,642,111,093,754,000,764 kilograms lighter than yo mama. -

HAIR COLOUR: Hot pink with yellow streaks.

EYE COLOUR: As red as Gwen Stefani.

JOB: King, of course.

PIERCINGS: Pierce Brosnan is a woman!

TATTOOS: A picture of Théoden on my rear end... shhh... don’t tell!

LANGUAGES: Whatever language I’m currently speaking and the language of the stupids. Srfjkshfkjsahdfmsndgm hdkjhfaoskjerh nsdmkfhskjae kllkaoljuesia kl... akslfslktijosperijsaofdksfd,gjdslkfjgdslkfjgsdlkfjgseoituks jSDJFKLsjfhs!

DO YOU...

HATE YOURSELF: Yes. I wish I had implants and a butterfly named Jose. Because I do not have what I desire, I hate myself.

HAVE BAD HABITS: Uh huh. I eat far too many granny cakes on a daily basis. They go straight to my butt!

SMOKE: Yes, but don’t do it. I now have ovarian and lung cancer. Boohoo. Kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray...

DRINK: What kind of gal doesn’t? One time, I got so drunk that I hit on a suit of armour and we had an affair. It reminded me of the time when I played chess with an arcade.

SLEEP WITH STUFFED ANIMALS: Not unless you think Glorfindel is a stuffed animal. He’s no plush toy, but he sure is an animal! ;)

PRAY: Bears in underwear.

REMEMBER YOUR FIRST CRUSH: Hell yeah! That Avon lady with a unibrow was hott stuff!

LIVE IN THE MOMENT: I like cake.

WHAT IS YOUR...

BIGGEST FEAR: Yo mama.

FAVOURITE POSSESSION: That would be my collection of beards. I currently possess the beards of Gimli, Gandalf, my imaginary friend, Éowyn and an African dude who lives in Iceland.

FAVOURITE COLOUR: Nuns wear cellophane!

FAVOURITE FOOD: Granny cakes.

FAVOURITE TV SHOW: Uh... um... Teletubbies. There! I finally admitted it!

FAVOURITE BOOK: “Grandma Webelo’s Porno Adventures” by Preston Nooseprap.

FAVOURITE MOVIE: Do you know the muffin man? I wish to purchase a quilt from him.

FAVOURITE SAYING: “When pants want off, a fly opens”... so true, home slice.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN...

SANTA: Of course... I had an affair with the guy!

THE EASTER BUNNY: She’s my wife...

GHOSTS: Boromir is out there, hunting for my boxer shorts.

MAGIC: Isn’t that a basketball player, you diagnostic bauble?

SO... DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SAY: Yes, Johnny. Eat your vegetables.


	5. Cliche #5: Faramir/Eowyn Fluff

"I love you, you confused water beetle carcass!" proclaimed Éowyn stupidly.

"I love you too," Faramir replied, looking at his wife like an influential park ranger on an ego trip. "Let's do something sweet so the readers will squeal with delight."

"No, let's not!" Éowyn shrieked. "If I was attacked by a rabid sports shop in the middle of the hallway before third period Spanish class in front of a congregation of five hundred nuns and deacons who talk in the third person, would you save me?"

"Of course, loveykins," he said, chucking a cynical gymnast at an infant who was eating stale graham crackers. "What do you want to talk about, Snuggle Lizard?"

Éowyn thought for a moment. "Socks."

Farrikins grinned. "Socks it is, you foreign-born unicorn!"

"I like socks," the crazy woman said. "Socks socks socks and a bunch of socks with more socks and toe socks and a sock rock band and more socks that like eating porcelain bunnies." She paused and spoke again like a knight who says 'Ni!' from a Monty Python movie. "Upside down sleuths in the month of October!"

"I love you, Snuggle Lizard," replied Faramir, kissing Éowyn passionately like a perspiring pauper in a pastel-coloured pavilion. "Will you marry me?"

"You're already married, you dingbat!" shouted Haldir, everyone's favourite boonky-wah. He was as sexy as a disposable camera with nineteen arms. "Bosom! Bosom! Bosom zippers!"

Faramir blinked and shot Haldir with a rifle, mainly because he was a disgrace to humanity and the author hates elves. He turned to Éowyn, who was sticking needles in Kris Kringle's excessive amount of blubber. Santa moaned, groaned and watched 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy'.

"Éowyn, Snuggle Lizard, my precious Granny Cake, snookums, Eebejeezus, my favourite gooseplop, Multicultural Spazzbucket, I have to tell you something that will change our lives and possibly the chemical composition of a flute named Miguel."

"Go on, Jiggles Man," she said, stabbing Kris Kringle with a zealous chariot pimple.

Just then, numerous ears of corn began hitting them with cardboard cutouts of Adolf Hitler. It was spiffy. When all the ears of corn had fallen over and died from constipation, Faramir turned to Éowyn and told her his little secret.

"A copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is stuck in my butt crack!"


	6. Cliche #6: Characters Visit Me

It was a lovely day in Nonameville, a quickly growing suburban town, which was located up your arse. The sun was shining, the neighbourhood children were laughing and the animals were consuming their young as I skipped home from school, occasionally stopping to throw hamburgers at illiterate priests.

Now I must have a whimsical description of my dear self so everyone can love me and the clichéd story. I’m a short European girl with golden hair and many a bushel of sauerkraut. I am totally obsessed with Lord of the Rings... duh. Anyway, I was indeed coming home from St. John’s Academy for Harmonious Helicopters. It had been a terrible day filled with exhausted Backstreet Boys chunks, irate bottles of perfume and four-eyed ice cream trucks.

As I walked down Wooble-De-Dooble Lane, I spotted something that was quite an odd sight in my neighbourhood: Ringwraiths harassing Arwen. What would Ringwraiths be doing in our world? I shrugged it off and continued on my arduous journey home. A few minutes later, I saw a crowd of boisterous people in the middle of a street. They had formed a circle around something. I decided to check it out. After all, nothing exciting ever happens where I come from.

“Come on, Tommy boy!” shouted old Mr Itzakadoozle, the resident loony. “Drink one more!”

“Yeah! Yeah! Come on!” the crowd yelled. Curious, I forced my way into the centre of the crowd and gasped when I saw what was going on. No, this couldn’t be true. I was seeing things, or was I? Surely Tom Bombadil drinking gasoline was a figment of my imagination. He was sitting on a wooden stool, clutching a large glass filled with gasoline. His red face was even redder than I could imagine and there were numerous empty glasses surrounding his stool. He looked like he was going to die, but I was too scared to care.

I turned around and ran all the way home. This was not possible. No, it couldn’t be. When I reached my house, I quickly pulled out my key and opened the door. I threw my backpack on the floor and looked around. It was quiet... too quiet, in fact.

“Mum?” I yelled. “Where are you?”

Then I realised that it was Thursday, the day she goes streaking with the Cheshire Cat in a laundromat. I was alone. My brother had a gynaecologist appointment and my sister was on a class trip to Hell. The odd thing was that I was not really alone. A grimy king was standing behind me with a long sword, and I didn’t know it.

“Shadizzlewizzle!” he said loudly. I spun around and saw Aragorn himself. I smiled. Perhaps it was possible. “Shadizzlewizzle! Shadizzlewizzles like cream cheese!”

“What are you doing here?” I asked politely, poking Aragorn’s nose. “Are you interested in purchasing a bogtrotter from me?”

Aragorn shook his ugly head. “No, I came here to get YOU.”

“Get me?” I repeated. “What for?”

Just then, a bunch of people came out of hiding. I saw Boromir, Gollum, Frodo, Legolas and Pippin come out of the pantry. Éomer and Merry were swinging from the chandelier and Gandalf emerged from the oven, looking quite well-done and burnt to the crisp around the edges.

Aragorn put his arms around me. “You are a SPECIAL person. God handpicked you from his SPECIAL GARDEN. We came to get you because you are my love child who must save Middle-earth... and we wanted some booze.”

I handed him a beer and gaped at the man who was supposedly my father. I distributed beer to everyone else and they got so drunk that they didn’t remember how to slice intimate cement charmers. Éomer, who was drunker than everyone else, stood on my mum’s prized glass coffee table and recited poetry that had to be removed because of the new rule against poetry by other people.

As we clapped for Éomer, the best poet in the world, Santa Claus entered the room with a rifle and a crap load of ammo. He shot every single one of us. We all died and went to Hell, where we found my sister and a potted plant. We did not live happily ever after. Instead, we were endlessly tortured by fics like these. The end.


	7. Cliche #7: Arwen Reflects on Aragorn's Death

Dearie me, my husband has died  
I want to eat eggs that are fried  
But that’s okay...  
Because nuggets are gay.  
Aragorn was really old  
And he always had the common cold.  
“Mufasa, Mufasa, Mufasa,” Rafiki replied,  
“I’ve lost several amphibians in high tide!”  
After Arry’s death, I’ve turned into a depressed stranger  
Golly gee! A poltergeist in a manger!  
I miss Aragorn oh so much…  
The author of this fanfiction is part Dutch.  
I miss the times when we ate fudge  
And the time when we slaughtered that judge.  
But that’s besides the point, you trauegruff;  
I’m going to Lórien to do some stuff  
Tah-tah, my dear friends, I’m off to do something illegal.  
You look like a constipated bald eagle.

 **EPILOGUE:** Arwen went to Lórien and she died. The end.


	8. Cliche #8: Legolas Mpreg, Because Ew

(Legolas’ POV)

 

As I sit here on the edge of my comfortable bed with Disney princess sheets, I reflect on why my life is slowly becoming a huge pile of horse turds. First my father abused me, then I set Elladan on fire and got arrested for arson, and now I’m pregnant with your child. It’s just not natural, if you know what I mean. Isn’t this supposed to happen to _girls_? Am I a girl? No, I am not, but something isn’t right. Why did this happen? You said you were on the pill, and so was I!

 

I feel as sick as a liberal lizard listening to linear lockets laugh loudly. Woah, dude. My head is spinning and I think I’m going to throw up my breakfast, which was a horoscope column clipped out of the local newspaper. What are you doing now? Do you even know?

 

I remember those hot, steamy nights at Edoras when we collapsed under the stars, breathing heavily from our... erm... naughty endeavors. Your golden hair felt so good on my chest and your tongue felt so good in my mouth. Um, I’ll keep this nicely rated for the kiddies. Your clear grey eyes looked me up and down, and I looked at you, wondering how you could be so beautiful. I love you.

 

I’m wondering whether I should tell you or not. Relationships between elves and humans are not respected, love, and our child will be an angular outcast. I will tell you, but keep it a secret. I know you won’t, because you’ll go blabbing like some people in some of these fics. Someone is bound to notice anyway.

 

I love you, Théoden. Be a good Ada.


	9. Cliche #9: Characters Trapped in Our World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much dated. So bankrupt video franchise. Wow.

**-DENETHOR, GIMLI, GALADRIEL AND A MAN NAMED BECKY ARE _STUCK IN BLOCKBUSTER_ FOR A REALLY LONG AMOUNT OF TIME-**

“Attention all Blockbuster customers,” said the old lady at the register. “We will be closing in approximately two and a half minutes, so get your sorry selves out of this franchise and throw cartons of spoiled egg nog at Johnny Depp. Thank you and have a nice day, Paco.”

The four weirdos checking out the squirrel section did not hear this announcement because, well, they were too involved in checking out the squirrel section... obviously. Denethor, Galadriel, Gimli and a man named Becky had been in the same Blockbuster franchise for hours. You see, the reason they had been there for hours is because they couldn’t choose between ‘Squirrels Rock’, ‘Squirrels: Wild and Free’ and ‘The Trials and Tribulations of a Dead Squirrel.’ Gimli, however, did not want to watch movies about squirrels. He wanted to watch ‘The Little Mermaid’ because he was a sissy.

But that was besides the point. The stupid store clerk/woman/geezer/old fart/lady was so old and senile that she locked up and closed the store without realising that four creepy idiots were still in the building. This made everyone feel like egotistical leprechauns under a puke-coloured fleece blanket.

Gimli smacked Denethor. “Come on, you old fart who likes cherry tomatoes! Let’s go!”

“No!” they all replied.

“Fine,” said Gimli stubbornly. “While I wait, I’ll check out the kiddy section and some hot guys.”

Gimlikins skipped away from them towards the door, but when he tried to open it, he was surprised. THE DOOR WAS LOCKED! Voldie really doesn’t know why the doors were locked from the inside, but since it is crucial to the almost nonexistent plot, they were locked from the inside... YOU VILE MASCARA HOUND!

“Holy cow!” he exclaimed. “We’re locked in Blockbuster!”

DUN DUN DUN!

**-HOUR 3 OF CONFINEMENT-**

“What are we going to do?” Denethor asked, licking the handle of Gimli’s axe. “I need to pee.”

“Oh, shut up,” Galadriel spat. “Take a leaf out of my book and go in your pants.”

Denethor did just that.

**-HOUR 7-**

Alas, my home slice, the four idiots found something to do: karaoke.

“That was brilliant, Gimli!” said Denethor. “Who wants to go next?”

No one said anything.

“Alright! Becky wants to go!”

Becky did absolutely nothing except die. Then everyone sang a pretty funeral song.

**-HOUR 29-**

The store didn’t open again, despite their hopes. Our heroes were wearing soiled clothes and they were extremely bored. Then the author switched to Gimli’s POV because she got even more bored than the characters.

**-HOUR 117-**

(Gimli’s POV in his random diary)

Aw, shit! I’ve been stuck in this stupid Blockbuster franchise for one hundred and seventeen hours. Shucks. Denethor is looking mighty fine, but what would he say if I asked him for some quick fun? I guess there’s only one way to know...

**-HOUR 119-**

He said yes! Boy, do I feel good!

**-HOUR 167-**

Food ran out. No toilet. Must eat. Water supply low. I would pay a million Euros to swim in a pile of turnips. Yellow... ballerinas... named... Charles.

**-HOUR 201-**

Water gone. Galadriel had the most brilliant idea. It’s something called ‘cannibalism.’ I wonder what it is.

**-SEVEN MINUTES LATER-**

I know what cannibalism is now. We’re watching Hannibal Lecter stuff to get the hang of it.

**-HOUR 207-**

Campfire time with Becky! This is the second Donner party... woot woot woot. Denethor found some wood in the corner, and we decided to use some Britney Spears posters as well. Burn! Burn!

**-HOUR 208-**

The Elf is bald due to Denethor’s overuse of lighter fluid and matches. Muahahahahahaha!

**-HOUR 259-**

Food gone. Hungry. I... want to eat... Galadriel’s leg. It’s mostly fat... not good... for consumption. We have been... drinking urine... for the past 58 hours. We can’t... make tinkles... anymore.

**-HOUR 269-**

Denethor and I played... tic tac toe.

**HOUR 301-**

Some girl... walked by the window... while eating popcorn. She was with... a group of faithful reviewers... who were also... eating popcorn. They laughed at me... and ate popcorn.

**-HOUR 311-**

Galadriel died. I’m too weak to eat. I feel like a... can of peach yogurt... listening western music.

**-THIRTEEN MINUTES LATER-**

Denethor met his maker. ARCHAEOLOGIST PIE!

**-TWO MINUTES AFTER THAT-**

I’m dy---


	10. Cliche #10: Aragorn's Daugher Loves Legolas

“Oh, Legolas,” Katie said contentedly, getting closer to the hot blonde dude with pointy ears. “You’re the best thing since sliced mathematicians and loping beast fan clubs!”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“No,” she replied, ripping off Leggie’s Roca Wear shirt. “But I love you anyway!”  
  
Yes indeedy, that fact was as true as a buffalo eating an ice cream cake with a dirty spork it found under a picnic table in Yellowstone National Park. Legolas and Princess Katie, twelve-year-old girl, were madly in love. Katie was not sure what her father, Queen Elessar, would say of this illegal and passionate romance. Kissy-kissy goes the wimple-bottom!  
  
Leggie took Katie’s callused yellow hands into his and stared into her freaky red eyes. This girl was really pretty...even prettier than the prettiest people in the world, Michael Jackson and George Bush. They were sexy and near the top of the sexy list, but Katie was number one with her red eyes, apelike limbs, electric blue hair and yellow skin. Leggie loved her and she loved him. It was destiny. Congruent triangles shop at Sears!  
  
“Katie,” Leggie began. He stopped and renamed his mother Pedro. Then he spoke again. “Katherine Umberto Mayer, will you marry me?”  
  
“Um...okay,” she said, kissing him passionately like a blob of mushy Avon ladies on a vacation to the Bahamas.  
  
Just then, Aragorn appeared and he had no problems with letting his daughter marry his best friend in the world because Leggie was way too hot. “Yo,” he said. “Katiekins, you can marry him!”  
  
“Like when, daddy?” she was as excited as an omnipotent geometry barbarian named Bruce.  
  
“Like now, fo shizzle.”  
  
“Word,” said King Arwen. “Like now, mah homie G! We tight like that, dawg!”  
  
A priest was summoned and he married them like a sarcastic Israeli janitor using a stolen credit card.  
  
**- THE HORROR OF HORRORS – AKA THE EPILOGUE-   
**  
**Katie** married Leggie and they had 20 bazillion kiddies! Katie never got stretch marks because she was perfect. She lived happily ever after like a waterproof agriculture nugget!  
  
**Leggie** married Katie. All he did was sit on an overstuffed couch and watch FRIENDS reruns until he died... but Elves don’t die. No one cares.  
  
**Queen Elessar** got run over by a reindeer.  
  
**Arwen** , a new widow, gave up on her love life. She was exiled to Gullah-Gullah Island, where she produced many heirs by mating with seagulls.  
  
****Voldie stopped writing, went swimming, and wrote more clichéd junk. She wants you to review!


	11. Cliche #11: Neglected Faramir

“Happy eleventh birthday, snookums!” Denethor cooed, hugging his favourite son, Boromir Maria. “Daddy loves you and cherry tomatoes!” 

Boromir grinned and enjoyed the warmth of his father’s embrace. It was his eleventh birthday, and he hoped to receive Barbie dolls and a pair of Gollum’s infamous lacy panties from the author’s other stories. Borikins was his father’s favourite son and gooseplop. Denethor liked that. Boromir did as well. The only person who wasn’t okay with it was Faramir Monica, the Steward’s second son. My chorus teacher is a sausage! 

Faramir, a sweet six-year-old boy, did not understand why he was so neglected and unloved. It was his birthday, too, and his father didn’t care. This made him feel like a minstrel with a furry pink beak in a run-down 50s-style diner. He was watching the scene from under the kitchen table, where many kings named Emily resided in bliss. Faramir was quite abused, you insightful prisoner. He was forced to clean the house, sweep the floor and read really boring textbooks about calculus and pickles liking hip hop music. On top of all that, he was forced to wear a hideous pair of really short and tight magenta knickers so everyone would think he was fruity. 

“FARAMIR MONICA!” Denethor shrieked. “Bring Boromir his presents, you cold front!” 

The kings named Emily pushed Faramir out from under the table, exposing him to his father and brother, who were tickling a wad of aluminium foil. Faramir grabbed the pile of presents near the table and brought them over to his weird family members. 

Boromir seized the presents from his brother and began to rip off the wrapping paper. He got many interesting gifts, such as metallic vocabulary demons, a bra (because his boobies were starting to develop), automobile nuggets, and an athletic black ops. Faramir was jealous. He didn’t get anything. He began to cry hysterically. 

Denethor glared at his youngest son and felt a pang of anger. He had raised Faramir and Boromir the right way, but Faramir had turned into a wimp. Farri had even cried when he watched ‘A Walk to Remember’, which started the abuse. Denethor delighted in beating his son up. It made him as happy as some lady named Giovanni on a roller coaster. No, Gollum! I don’t accept American money! 

“Why don’t you love me, daddy?” asked Faramir, drying his eyes with a newlywed lioness. “You love Boromir and eating deodorant, but you don’t love me.” 

“BEEP you!” yelled Denethor, whacking Faramir with several party-going prophets. “BEEP BEEP! Holy BEEP, you BEEPing BEEP! BEEP BEEP! Little Bo Peep!” 

By this time, Faramir was quite bruised and scratched. He decided to run away. “Pops, Bori, I’m running away.” 

Denethor threw a pair of pagan pyjamas at Faramir. “Fine, BEEP. Run away. I hope you get run over by cans of musical sailboat oxidation and die, you BEEPing BEEP.” 

Faramir threw the pyjamas back at his father and walked out the door. There he saw a blue-haired social worker riding a wolf named Tristan. It was spiffy. The social worker looked really nice, so he walked over to her and said hello. He was saved from his father. Whoopdee doo, Basil! 

“BEEP you,” said the social worker, ripping off her mask. It was really Denethor. To make things short, Denni killed Farri. Although the line of Stewards would fail, Éowyn would die of depression, and Frodo and Sam would never make it to Mordor because they wouldn’t have food, they all lived happily ever after. You will not live happily ever after if you don’t review!


	12. Cliche #12: Depressing Songfic

“Please, Aragorn,” the scary woman named Éowyn Kermit begged. “I want to ride with you because battle is fun and I don’t wish to be locked in a symbolic cage full of hyperactive men with potbellies who enjoy watching James Bond films.”

 

Aragorn stared at her. “If I was being stalked by irate classical musicians while stampeding through the desert on a elk named Louis, and at the same time trying to toss basketballs at George of the Jungle's dental hygienist, would you miss me?”

 

“Of course, my lord.”

 

“Well, fuck off and play Scrabble with a crustacean,” Aragorn said angrily, mounting his kangaroo. “Have a nice day, Éowyn, you linguist covered in moldy cheddar cheese. I hope I didn’t ruin your life, but I already did. Smile and be happy, and don’t go riding off into battle even though I know you will. I shall leave you here in a heap of angst and emotional barber membranes.”

 

And with that, he rode off, leaving Éowyn behind. This made her feel like a glazed doughnut with blue hair. No one could ever treat her like that. The nerve of that dirty hermaphrodite! Just then, she could hear some sort of music that she guessed was supposed to go along with the fic.

 

_The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout..._

“Erm...okay,” she mumbled while starting to dance to the exhilarating music. “Why am I treated like absolute crap? Nobody cares, not even my invisible friend Maxwell.”

 

_Down came the rain and washed the spider out..._

“I feel like shit. In fact, I am made of shit and covered in it also. Why does everyone hate me?”

 

_Out came the sun and dried up all the rain..._

“Holy, holy, I’m all surly, perhaps my brother’s middle name is Shirley. It would be cool if I won the New York lotto, ‘eat anteaters forever’ is my motto.”

 

_And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again!_

Éowyn, who enjoyed that quite emotional experience, sighed and rode off into battle with a perverted Burger King employee.


	13. Cliche #13: The Survey Returneth

** NAME: ** Meriadoc Elizabeth Brandybuck.

** NICKNAME(S):  ** Merry, Lizzie, Bouncy Thesaurus.

** AGE: ** New Zealand?

** GENDER:  ** Male.

** SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  ** Not sure, home slice.

** BIRTHDAY: ** Take me to the constipation station!

** LOCATION:  ** Somewhere over the rainbow...

** LIVING ARRANGEMENT: ** I live with my family.

** FAMILY: ** Me, Estella, and our son who exists but is not on the Brandybuck family tree. I had a housekeeper a few years back. He was good at making the bed... rock up and down!

** HEIGHT:  ** As tall as a reckless estate agent playing a recorder.

** WEIGHT:  ** The scrambled eggs are laminated.

** HAIR COLOUR:   ** Brownish. Fire the "laser beam."

** EYE COLOUR:  ** Amberish-yellowish-greenish-orangeish-purpleish-bluish-greyish.

** JOB:  ** Master of Buckland.

** PIERCINGS:  ** None, you lavatory gorilla!

** TATTOOS: ** Beregond is betrothed to the number 92!

** LANGUAGES:  ** Westron…

**_ DO YOU... _ **

** HATE YOURSELF?:  ** I love myself so much to the extent that I want to elope with myself!

** HAVE BAD HABITS?:  ** The Trix Rabbit? Why won't those kids give him the cereal? He has feelings, you know!

** SMOKE?:  ** DO NOT SMOKE!

** DRINK?: ** Only out of the toilet...

** SLEEP WITH STUFFED ANIMALS?:  ** Nope.

** PRAY?: ** Come here, Mini Me.

** REMEMBER YOUR FIRST CRUSH?:  ** My first crush was Théoden. I wish I could've ridden on the back of his horse. I would've had access to his sweet buttocks. Then he died and I was left all alone to sit in my misery. After that, I had a crush on that purple dinosaur named Barney, but then my mum told me he was just a really strange man in a costume. He died, too. Then I had a crush on Faramir. His wife had problems with that... I wonder why. There's nothing wrong with wanting a bit of loving from the Prince of Ithilien. That was more than just one crush. Nowadays, I am in love with a random wolf named Jorge… and Estella, I guess.

** LIVE IN THE MOMENT?: ** I want a trout. Do you want a trout? We can be trout-wanting buddies!

** DANCE IN THE RAIN?: ** All the time, but I slip and fall. This makes me feel as depressed as a bailiff hitting on a bunch of pineapples.

**_ WHAT IS YOUR... _ **

** BIGGEST FEAR?:  ** That is classified information, you freckle named Peter.

** FAVOURITE POSSESSION?:  ** Professor Snape? Is that you?

** FAVOURITE COLOUR?:  ** I would have to say... um... pizzazzaraz purple.

** FAVOURITE FOOD?:  ** Anything I find on the floor.

** FAVOURITE TV SHOW?: ** I don't watch television. In my spare time, I throw X-chromosomes at young children.

** FAVOURITE BOOK?:  ** You cannot be excused from the dinner table, Karen!

** FAVOURITE MOVIE?:  ** I like Return of the King. Théoden was a hottie.

** FAVOURITE SAYING:  ** "When you hear a sparrow call, shoot it and hide from the wrath of Martha Stewart."

**_ DO YOU BELIEVE IN... _ **

** SANTA?:  **  HO HO HO! DISPOSABLE OLIGARCHY LEMURS!

** THE EASTER BUNNY?:  ** That would be the Queen of Gondor, home slice.

** GHOSTS?:  ** Pharaohs live in small caverns and download pictures of Osama bin Laden.

** MAGIC?:  ** Lumos! Lookie here, children! I'm Harry Potter!

** SO... DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SAY?:  ** I'm a little Austrian wench named Anthony!


	14. Cliche #14: Aragorn/Eowyn Romance

_ -Chapter 1 – Faramir the Violent- _

"I am the fertility saxophone!" Éowyn said to Faramir, who was immersed in a huge book called 'When Bandicoots Eat Salami.' He didn't look up at his wife. She was standing over him, pouring maple syrup on his head whenever he turned the page.

"That's nice, dear," he muttered, still not looking up at Éowyn.

Their marriage could be compared to a flaming pile of dung left on some old dude's porch. Faramir and Éowyn no longer enjoyed snuggling or throwing grandparents at Ronald McDonald whenever he skipped past. This made everyone in Ithilien feel like depressed lunch ladies.

"Éowyn?"

"Yes, snookums?"

"I hate you. Our child is the ugliest thing to ever walk on this earth, and that's your fault!" he glared at Elboron, who was in the process of gluing his tongue to an éclair. Then he turned to his wife and hit her. "I hate you more than I did ten seconds ago. You look like a fat blob of kiosk pudding."

"Daddy, you shouldn't say that," Elboron said, trying to pull the éclair off his tongue. "Mummy will run away and fall in love with Aragorn!"

"That's the point, you stupid little bugger!" Faramir yelled, getting to his feet and reaching for a metal baseball bat. "I hate your mother, and I never should have married her. I want the Fat Lady of Rohan to drown in a pool of her own blood and animated question goo."

"So we're like _over_?"

"Yes, Snuggle Lizard. We're over."

_ -Chapter 2 – Hannibal Comes to Call- _

It was a beautiful night in some garden in Minas Tirith. Queen Elessar and his wife, King Arwen, were walking in that stupid garden. They were in love, of course, and nothing could break them up... or so they thought.

"I love you, Librarian Omelet," Aragorn said.

Arwen did not respond, but the freaky bald guy behind her did.

"Hello, Clarice," he whispered into Arwen's disgusting pointy ear.

"I'm not Clarice!" Arwen spat.

Hannibal Jane Lecter froze in his spot, saluted Arwen, and ran off to find this Clarice person. Arwen randomly fell over and died. Aragorn didn't care about the loss of his wife, mainly because she was an ugly git. He also had feelings for Éowyn, everyone's favourite boohimer. He had hidden these feelings for ages, but she was in love with Faramir... or so he thought.

_ -Chapter 3 – It's a Date- _

"Earth to earth, and dust to dust. I like eggs and Boromir has a growing bust. We mourn the death of our dear king, let's all rejoice and sing! I feel like a crunchy box of stuff... handcuffs?"

As everyone clapped for the poetic priest/rabbi/funeral guy, Éowyn saw Aragorn kicking the cardboard box that held Arwen's bones, which was located near a smelly port-a-potty. He was a stud muffin and the best queen ever.

"Hey, Aragorn," she said seductively. "Would you like to join me in that port-a-potty for a quick snog session?"

Aragorn smiled. "Yes, precious."

_ -Chapter 4 – Portable Toilets Rock My Socks- _

"I love you, Aggressive Ringworm," Aragorn said to Éowyn, his new girlfriend – I mean boyfriend.

She blinked at stared at him. "Don't you think that Faramir and Arwen would care that we're snogging in a smelly portable toilet?"

Aragorn shook his head. "No, Aggressive Ringworm. The whole point of this story is for us to fall in love. Besides, they never seem to care. Éowyn, will you marry me?"

_ -Chapter 5 – Epilogue- _

** FARAMIR ** was reported to the school guidance counselors for being a violent bully. He had to take an anger management class. Nowadays, he can be seen riding a go-kart in Emyn Arnen, shouting "Goosfraba!" at the top of his lungs and releasing the anger sharks into the many ponds in Ithilien. Please, folks, do not swim in Ithilien. There are many anger sharks.

** ELBORON ** ran away to the Shire and was never seen again. By the way, he never managed to get that stupid éclair off his tongue.

** THAT PRIEST/RABBI/FUNERAL GUY ** lived a life of crime. He occasionally made appearances in random barber shops.

** ZOEY ** , Éowyn and Aragorn's only child, was a boy even though he had a girly name. He did absolutely nothing. Whoopdee doo, Basil!

** ÉOWYN ** died in childbirth. This made Legolas scared of having his baby, and he died because the author didn't want to write about him giving birth. Anyhoodle, Éowyn was as dead as a doornail... whatever that means.

** ARAGORN ** devoted the rest of his miserable life to stalking Shelob.

** VOLDIE ** is currently celebrating Éowyn's death with her former muse, the Witch-king. Twitchy-Witchy and Voldie want you to review.

_IT'S TEN O'CLOCK. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR KIDS ARE?_


	15. Cliche #15: Mary Sue

On the cold night of 67 Astron (commonly known to humans as April) in the year 3005 of the Third Age, there was a shadow in Arda. It was not Sauron, the shadowiest of all shadowy shadows, nor was it the shadow of a really tall clown doing the cha-cha slide. This shadow grew in Lórien and it was the evilest of all evilly evils. Its name? Chester... Chester the Molester.

This Chester fellow had great powers unknown to all. He was able to hula hoop, play lacrosse and put twenty-three grapes in his mouth without choking. He was an ugly man with greasy blonde hair, a hooked nose, and most people said he resembled an odd version of Professor Snape and Éomer. Chester also had some sort of powerful necklace that let him control others. You see, my home slice, he used this necklace to force women to do naughty things. No, he was not some perverted loony looking for excitement and the answers to last night's episode of 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?'. He liked being in control and getting his period. What was the reason for his controlling ways? That was because of his dreadful past.

His parents were brothers, and Haldir didn't take that into consideration when he got piss drunk. Rumil named his son/nephew Coronwen. Coronwen was abused every night. When he was old enough, he ran away from home, renamed himself Chester and vowed to wreak havoc upon all those in Middle-earth. Muahahahaha!

On that same night the author mentioned before, Chester the Molester did the dirty with someone. This was not just anyone. It was Celebrían, even though she sailed to Valinor and you can't come back from there. Anyhoodle, he used the necklace to force Celebrían to BEEP.

Nine months later, the best thing happened. Boromir was caught wearing that bra from chapter twelve to his uncle's 60th birthday bash. Not really, you lemon-flavoured barrister covered in thick blue fuzz! A girl was born. This girl was no ordinary girl. Her name was Star Serenity Polytheism LaPlop-DePhoenix, aka a horrid MARY SUE. Star was the prettiest elf to ever walk on the face of the earth. Arwen Undómiel, Galadriel and Lúthien looked like blobs of Théoden's greenish poo compared to Star, the best person in Middle-earth!

When Star was a wee lass, her mum brought her to live with Elrond. There was no reason for this, but it was probably because the price of gas was going up and many bogtrotters with pitchforks resided in Celebrían's pantry. Celebrían went back to Valinor, leaving her precious daughter behind. Star was the light in her foster father's life and also Bilbo Baggins' favourite punching bag. She lived a life full of luxury and reinforced macaroni skeletons in Rivendell.

One day, a bunch of people came to Rivendell. Then Elrond had some stupid council thing to decide who would take the Ring. The Fellowship of the Ring would consist of nine men and Star. The reason? No, not the song by Hoobastank, but the reason for ten walkers, you spazzmuffin! Star got to go because she threatened to squirt spicy mustard at masculine country singers named Diane.

Star went on this "mission-quest thingy" and she fell in love with Legolas Carlie Greenleaf, everyone's favourite yarnadoodle. She defeated Sauron, the Witch-king and the hereditary exclamation monster under Denethor's bed.

We apologise for any inconveniences, but wicked Christmas fruitcakes are taking over the world. Since the world is ending, Star's oh-so-original tale will end, too.

Star Serenity Polytheism LaPlop-DePhoenix, Lady of Shitsdale, wife of Legolas, mother of Bumpkin and Hobo, foster daughter of Elrond the Weird-Eyebrowed, half-sister and distant relative of Elrond's kids, daughter of Celebrían and Chester the Molester, and Queen of Sincere Bazooka Land died on a Tuesday. I remember it clearly. She was running across a busy highway in Ithilien whilst holding a chainsaw. She was trying to mutilate the mailman, but she was squished when a large Shop Rite truck ran over her sorry arse. Herbert the Fouz-Man and a paperback copy of 'Gone With the Wind' cremated Star and used her ashes as kitty litter. The same thing will happen to you if you don't review :)


	16. Cliche #16: Legolas Gives Birth

Screams echoed through the deep confines of an elevator. The screams were high-pitched and probably very sexy if they wore pantyhose. Anyhoodle, Legolas Carlie Greenleaf was giving birth in a broken elevator. The father of his child, Théoden, commonly called Mr Nice Butt, was run over by a lawn mower during the battle of Pelennor Fields. His best friend, Queen Elessar, was currently attending a drag queen rodeo, for he was indeed a queen and a crossdresser. Leggie did not want to be alone.

He screamed again. He couldn't do this by himself. He decided to pray.

__Please, God, help me out  
Faramir has a big snout  
I want to cut off his nose  
And then play with a hose  
I'm in great pain  
I live in Maple Lane  
I can't do this by myself  
I have a picture of Théoden on my shelf  
I want chicken, I want liver  
Meow Mix, Meow Mix, please deliver  
I'm asking for help, you box  
THE RED SOX?

Just then, when all seemed hopeless, a group of people appeared. They included Treebeard, Bilbo Baggins and Twitchy-Witchy, aka the Witch-king. Legolas was so relieved! He felt like a random monarch butterfly in a large Toyota SUV.

"Fo shizzle, home slice!" Bilbo yelled, slapping Legolas excitedly. "Eru and the author heard your prayer and sent the most inept people to birth your child! Thank you for flying Delta!"

"YOU'RE INEPT AT BIRTHING CHILDREN?" Leggie shrieked. "GET IORETH, YOU ISENGARDIAN TULIP!"

"She's dead, hoom," Treebeard said solemnly. "She died last night, hoom, because she ate too much McDonald's food... hoom hoom. It clogs the arteries, fo shizzle."

"We're in an elevator in Hell!" he spat. "Ioreth has to be here!"

Twitchy-Witchy cleared his throat. "She's not here."

Legolas began to sob hysterically. His contractions were painful, his father still hated him, he couldn't give birth to his child and no one could help his sorry self... or so he thought. The author lost her touch, and it is okay to flame her!

"Is there anyone who can help?" he said between sobs. No one in the group nodded or said anything. "Where's Arwen?"

"She's currently trying to flush her head down a toilet," Twitchy-Witchy said, taking a sip of blood from a random goblet. Legolas gave him a funny look. "Well, I'm not sure what the heck she's doing, but she won't help you because Voldie is a sadistic fouz."

"HELP ME!" Legolas shrieked, clutching his bulging buttocks. "IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT GRANDFATHER TIME IS AN ABUSED ANTELOPE!"

"What are we going to do?" Treebeard said. "Hoom, I feel like a figure skater talking to her grandmother in Russia from a broken Nokia phone."

Bilbo, who had been licking the metal doors and pushing all the buttons, went over to Legolas and began reciting poetry to calm him down. After all, the little freak of nature had to be calm while Twitchy-Witchy and Treebeard thought of something to do.

Just then, Legolas' butt almost burst because the baby was growing in his butt. "HEEEEELP!"

"What should we do?"

"I think he has to poo it out, home slice," Bilbo muttered.

Twitchy-Witchy fingered his long sword. "Forget about that, you engineer named Rapunzel!" He sliced Leggie's butt off in a single stroke, and a chair fell out of it.

"It's a chair!" Legolas said, staggering about like a venomous toothbrush shopping for lingerie in a department store. "Oooh, I think I'm dying!"

And Legolas died without naming his chair-baby.

**_ -THE EPILOGUE- _ **

** Legolas ** , who died in chapter 14 and this chapter, was now dead for good. He may return in another chapter, but Voldie isn't sure.

** Treebeard and Bilbo ** married each other the next day. It was a joyous celebration filled with carpenters, pyromaniacs and buttery buckets of Wuv Luvs.

** Twitchy-Witchy ** ran around proclaiming that the Roman Empire is physically attractive until he got slaughtered by a vicious bobcat on the twenty-ninth of September.

** Chester the Molester ** was strangled by a papaya in Brazil in the thirteenth year of the Fourth Age. This led to much celebration and happy pencil sentences.

** Voldie ** , who was very disturbed while writing this chapter, threw up and went back to working on her new story. She wants you to review and count to eighty in Swahili. DO IT, YOU PURPLE SHEEPDOG!


	17. Cliche #17: Fairy Tale Legomance

Once upon a time, there was a pretty young girl named Colthenion. She was the prettiest Elf ever, even prettier than that Mary-Sue from chapter fifteen. Colthenion had really long, black, shiny, radiant hair and buglike yellow eyes. She was beautiful. Her father, Gimli, was an extremely possessive freak with an unusual penchant for collecting oliphaunt dung. Oliphaunt dung is a very tasty substance, according to Gimli. Try some today!

Because he was so possessive and freakishly weird, Gimli did not want Colthenion to be a normal child. He locked her in a tall tower for protection so she would always stay beautiful and perfect. However, it's quite hard to stay beautiful and perfect when one is locked in a high tower that doesn't have a loo, mirror and cleaning supplies. Poodles like listening to classical music.

Colthenion was locked in her tower for years, waiting for Prince Charming to come. Unfortunately, he got murdered by Dora the Explorer while on his way to Victoria's Secret. Just when things were looking bad for the very dirty Colthenion, her father had an idea. She would have to marry one of the three suitors her father had chosen. They were Galadriel, Théoden and Denethor. Colthenion agreed to wed Théoden because she liked his butt, just like many people who read this silly fic.

They were married, and they lived in that stupid tower. Two years later, she grew tired of his sweet buttocks. Théoden disappeared for several months and was pronounced missing like a vomiting woman named Jack on top of Mt Everest. Colthenion didn't care; she was available once again. Around this time in Mirkwood, Legolas Carlie Greenleaf, a very handsome Silvan Elf who worked at the local Pizza Hut, decided that it was time to find love. He set out for Couch Land, where Colthenion was locked up. Legolas had heard of Colthenion's imprisonment, and he wanted to free the stupid demon. Brian?

Now Colthenion was bored and alone. Just when she was considering suicide, Legolas appeared under the tower in his little Barbie Jeep thing. To make things short, he rescued her in some daring fashion and won her father's heart. Now he was involved with both Colthenion and her father, which made everyone feel as happy as a radio DJ who eats garbage on rainy Sunday afternoons with a dead fish named Nienna while old farts sing gospel music in the background.

Legolas was then summoned to Rivendell to join the Fellowship. Colthenion was not allowed to come. Because the author has a scene in a few minutes, she will keep this short. Colthenion tried to get to Rivendell, but she died in some horrible fashion. Gimli then came near where she died, and she was so ugly that she looked like oliphaunt dung. He collected the 'dung', made it into dung cakes and burned Colthenion for fuel. If you don't review, I will go berry picking! I'm sure that you don't want that to happen, so review!


	18. Cliche #18: Bad Randomness

“Booyah!” Elrond shouted happily, stroking his orange hippopotamus. “Do you want to buy a loaf of Scottish lads?”

“No,” Elladan replied, glaring at his scary father. “I am not interested in purchasing a loaf of lads from Scotland. The only thing I am interested in is finding out who licked my toe socks.”

Goldberry bounced into the vicinity like a squirming man named Irene. “Becky Sutra loves you!”

“What do you want, you fuzzum?” Elrond snarled. “Oooh! Left-handed army veterans!”

The berry of all that may be gold smacked Elrond and ate spiders. She died and the author celebrated like a psychopathic rowboat in a sauna with Steve Irwin. Then everyone said random things because that’s what people in random humour fics do.

“My movie star doesn’t drink many girls who call themselves Marcos,” Boromir said.

“Ah, good brother,” Faramir interjected. “Tarzan’s in-laws don’t use toilets.”

“Really?” the oh-so-corrupted brother asked. The oh-so-sexy brother nodded. “Well, Farri-pooh, the parrot likes the train station.”

Faramir twitched and started to dance around. He looked either constipated or itchy like a persuasive prison guard in a burning apartment building. “There’s a raisin in my pants!”

He then tried to shake the unfortunate raisin out of his pants, and it fell out like a bearded man named Gretchen under a sacrificial altar. Boromir picked the raisin up and threw it at Gandalf, who was applying mascara.

“What was that for, Boro?” Faramir asked.

“Do you know the muffin man?”

“Nay, good brother, but I know a poem that I will one day recite to my true love,” Faramir sighed and Boromir urged him to recite the poem, which he did. “See the fish on the dish, throw it at someone and make a wish! Don’t wish too long ‘cause then you’ll see the Honey Nut Cheerios bumblebee!”

Boromir was flattered! He was Faramir’s true love! “You’re such an igfrad!”

Faramir began to sob. “You’re so hurtful!” And then he walked away from Boromir, unaware that he had a giant period stain on his butt. The very stupid end.


	19. Cliché #19: Hobbit Slash

Samwise Xena Gamgee was on a mission. It was not just any mission. He was out to make Frodo Jane Baggins, his master, fall in love with him. Sam thought that this would be hard, considering that Frodo had changed after he destroyed the Ring. He no longer liked love, stories and even biting the mailman. Perhaps with a bit of coaxing, flowers, and pick up lines, Frodo would fall into the trap of steaming-hot gay hobbit loving.

He had a plan to get close to Frodo. He was going to teach him the trade of gardening. It would give him a chance to get close, and being outside on the ground is quite romantic. Maybe Frodo would warm up to him.

“I have an immense desire to light Professor McGonagall’s hair on fire and joyfully watch her become bald,” he said. “Moohimer?”

Sam was at the door of Bag End. He looked though the window and saw Frodo in his living room, crying his eyes out and singing along to some sort of odd music. Sam pitied him. Frodo was such a tormented soul. He opened the door and went inside. Bag End, a usually clean place, was littered with rotten banana peels, candy wrappers, dirty clothes and seductive kindergarten snouts.

“Feathery Communist, Sammy’s here,” he whispered to the insanely weird and fruity hobbit on the floor. “Sammy will make it better.”

Frodo immediately stopped sobbing and looked up to Sam, who was extremely sexy in his pink corduroy overalls. Sam ran his hands through Frodo’s hair until he calmed down. “Frodo, let’s go outside and talk.”

Frodo got to his feet and walked outside. When the coast was clear, Sam chugged a whole bottle of Listerine to make his breath minty fresh in case he got to kiss his Feathery Communist. He, too, walked outside, where he saw Frodo playing with his little gardening shovel.

“What are you doing, lovey-pooh?” he asked, taking the shovel from Frodo, whose eyes teared up again. “That’s my shovel. You can have my hoe.”

Sam handed Frodo his hoe, and Frodo took it. Just when Sam thought Frodo was content, he threw the hoe at Farmer Maggot, who was passing by on a kiddy tricycle. It hit him in the head, and he fell off his silly tricycle and died. It was as spiffy as teaching a polar bear advanced algebra. Sam thought that this would be a good time to try his pick up lines.

“Feathery Communist, are you Jamaican?”

“No. Why?”

“Because Jamaican me crazy!”

Frodo began to wail again, beating his fists on the ground. It was sexy to see Frodo throwing a temper tantrum, but Sam did not want him to be angry. He only wanted to hold Frodo in his chubby arms. He wanted to beat Mr. Krabs up and serve Frodo his legs for dinner. This made everyone feel like an oak tree at a grocery store with its really old grandmother

“I love you, Frodikins. You make me feel as happy as a pair of nocturnal eyebrows on vacation in Germany.” Sam paused. “Did it hurt?”

Frodo fell for the pick up line. “Did what hurt?

“When you fell from heaven!”

Then the two fruity hobbits decided that is was best to get married.

“Hello there, Eruhini!” that priest from chapter fourteen exclaimed. “Do I hear wedding bells?”

Frodo grinned. “Yes, Mr Priest Dude, and I also hear the sounds of rude eight-year-olds passing gas.”

Sam, who changed into a silky white gown that he had stolen from Galadriel, took Frodo’s hand in his. His dreams were coming true and he liked to watch Blue’s Clues. The priest had no problem whatsoever with marrying a same-sex couple, and he recited a poem that went like this...

__The exponent has passed away.  
His body lies in the street, but his joyful soul is in heaven.  
The base number is so distressed!  
He constantly mourns the loss of his itsy bitsy friend.  
The exponent is dead.  
He kicked the bucket.  
Gave up the ghost.  
Met his maker.  
Visited Davy Jones’ locker.  
Passed on to something better.  
Yes, my dear friend, the exponent is dead.

“That was beautiful,” Sam said, kissing Frodo lightly on the cheek. “But it wasn’t as beautiful as my Feathery Communist.”

“Shut up!” the priest yelled. “Run, run! Don’t wait for me! Through the woods and into the sky, for the evil newts have evilly arrived!”

“No niggard are you, Éomer, to give thus to Gondor the fairest thing in your realm!” Aragorn said, giving Éomer a high-five.

“Duuuude,” Éomer said. “This chapter is dragging on and on. I think we should do something about that.”

Frodo and Sam were confused. What the heck was going on?

“Ana Maria looks like an old man eating a Pop-Tart while taking a dump in a Six Flags amusement park!” Aragorn yelled. He and Éomer sliced up the newlywed hobbits, and no one lived happily ever after. The very stupid end.


	20. Cliche #20: Post-War Faramir/Éowyn Story

** \-----A Pointless Sequence for Your Amusement-----  **

"Hey, Théoden," Merry whispered to the attractive senior citizen in a pleated skirt. "Did you just escape from hell?"

"No... why?"

"Because you're looking hot!"

** \-----Post-War Faramir/Éowyn Story-----  **

**-Chapter 1 – A Romantic Wedding Thing-**

"Earth to earth and dust to dust..." the poetic priest guy started. Yes indeedy, he was the priest at Faramir and Éowyn's wedding.

"It's a wedding, for Eru's sake!" Merry yelled. "Why don't you recite a love poem?"

"Come to the Sacred Heart Halloween Shin Dig!" the priest said. He collapsed and died, much everyone's relief. Because it was his sister's wedding, Éomer received the honour of preaching.

I walk into Subway,  
I order a sandwich of cheese,  
I tell the employee,  
"Put it on a hoagie roll, please."

I sit down to eat  
Only to unwrap the creation and meet-  
A sandwich on nasty wheat!

I asked for a hoagie,  
I wound up with bread;  
Whoever made this sandwich  
Is about as good as dead.  
I said hoagie roll!  
Now off with his head...

This is a lesson for all to know.  
If I say I want a hoagie roll,  
I mean it, you ho!

"Faramir," Éomer said. "You may kiss the bride. While you're at it, kiss me!"

"No thanks, home slice," Faramir spat. "I'd rather be mauled by clerical staff."

**-Chapter 2 – Abused Souls Unite-**

It was a lovely night. Faramir and his new wife were preparing to do, um, stuff that doesn't concern you or I. Sadly, there was a problem. Because of what the evil, ugly, scary Gríma did to Éowyn, she did not want to be touched. Farri did not know this, and he confronted her.

"Oh, Éowyn, my Snuggle Lizard, why wilt thou not maketh loveth to my horribleth baddeth Olde English selfe?"

"Gríma was an idiot and he created chaos about the board game entitled Surfing Skunk," she said. "Do you not like sauerkraut?"

Faramir grinned. "Well, my father abused me and I hate sauerkraut. Let's talk about this stuff and unite our abused souls until the insecure rodents from Spain sue a man named Penelope for playing with matches!"

"That sounds good to me, Captain Pantyhose," Éowyn replied. "Remember to remind the extra terrestrial that it's up way past its bedtime."

**-Chapter 3 – And Baby Makes Three... Let's Kill It, Shall We?-**

A year after their marriage, Faramir and his bouncy wife were living happily in Emyn Arnen, where abundant gooseplops drown in quicksand and Teletubbies play cards with men in silky white gowns. Their life was perfect. They enjoyed throwing grandparents at Ronald McDonald, as mentioned a few chapters back, and eating stale, mold-covered lembas wafers. Nothing exciting ever happened to them...but Éowyn had an exciting 'secret' to share. Too bad that we all know what it is because these stories are predictable!

"My lovey-pooh snog bunny, I have a secret to share with you," she told Faramir one day when they were waiting for the overpainted clown to skip past.

He frowned. Was she cheating on him for a four-eyed rabbit? "Tell me, you chocolate milkshake who likes interrupting fat orange crayons with untreatable liver diseases."

"I'm with child," she said stupidly. "This makes me feel like a grouchy purple flyswatter named Otto tied to the top of the Eiffel Tower."

"Congratulations," Faramir whispered, his eyes tearing up as he glanced at Éowyn's stomach. "You've just won a pair of sandy mascots courtesy of TGI Friday's and ancient Indian anorexic slop."

**-Chapter 4 – Of War and Corn on the Cob Monsters-**

"I caught Aladdin doing an ancient tribal dance with Albus Dumbledore and an underfed sock puppet," Faramir said to Éowyn before he left to go to some stupid war seven months later. His departure was a sad incident concerning grape juice, Julie Andrews and ovens. For Éowyn, this was a very depressing time. Ronald McDonald never came anymore, Faramir was gone, she was fatter than ever (if that's even possible) and there were numerous jackrabbits in her freezer.

To make things short so the author can write the illustrious epilogue thing and get on with her sad life, Faramir Monica came home. He was injured and near death. Éowyn Kermit gave birth to a nauseating little boy named Ruby Tigerlily Boom-Boom Nadaia IV, Elboron for short. Little Ruby reminded his father of Númenor. Faramir was healed by that male nurse from 'Meet the Parents' and they all lived happily ever after...until the sadistic author wrote the epilogue.

DUN DUN DUN!

**-Chapter Five – The Last Epilogue-**

FARAMIR  was depressed and decided that the best course of action was to join a club for samurai dudes. So yeah, he became a samurai and patrolled the streets of Melbourne dressed like a hummingbird during a solar eclipse.

ÉOWYN  joined boy scouting and was murdered by Elrohir in a fight over who would get the last strawberry Fruit Roll-Up in the box.

RUBY TIGERLILY BOOM-BOOM NADAIA IV  got a job as a waitress at Hooters.

ÉOMER  went nuts after his sister's untimely death. He invented a spray that cleans up alligator vomit. "Alligator Puke Be Gone" can be yours for the mere price of your soul!

THAT PRIEST FROM CHAPTERS 11, 14, 19 AND 20  went to court and legally changed his name to Marge.

GANDALF  melted into an overly happy television clicker.

VOLDIE  would like you to know how much she appreciated your flattering comments, suggestions and your generous donations of woodchucks. After completing the story, she went to Las Vegas to give free rubber duckies to all the dead men named LaTasha.

_Now review, shield-cheese, or those sandy mascots from TGI Friday's will get you!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the sequel (circa 2004/2005), _Middle School Faculty in Drag_!


End file.
